


Slippery Steps And Broken Cups

by YukiSetsu



Series: 12 Days of (Lance) Whumpmas [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, glass wound, lance with fever is my fave highkey, slight hand injury, strep throat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 12:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13031106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiSetsu/pseuds/YukiSetsu
Summary: Modern College AU. Lance had been busy planning a big Christmas party with Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, and Keith, only to go missing on the special day. Keith goes to check in on him, and ends up having to deal with way more than he expected.





	Slippery Steps And Broken Cups

**Author's Note:**

> this is more of h/c than whump but i tried T__T this is so late too because i was out all day adlkfjaskl it’s 3am i’m tired pls forgive
> 
> also my first doing a modern college AU for voltron hhhHHH i like it

Keith knew something was wrong when Lance hadn't messaged the group chat in 2 days. Usually, his phone could barely keep up with the amount of messages Lance sent in one go, but right now... it was quieter than it had ever been. Hunk chimed in once, being the first to note that Lance hadn't chatted in a while and ask where he was. Which was weird, because Hunk and Lance practically knew each other's schedules on a day-to-day basis.

But more importantly, the “Spectacular Christmas Bonanza” that Lance planned for days was supposed to be happening tonight. In 10 minutes. And he was nowhere to be found.

“Still nothing?” Shiro asked, setting plates on the table. Most of their living room was cleaned up in preparation for the party, so all that was left was for Keith and Shiro to wait for the others to arrive.

“Nope.” Keith huffed out an irritated breath. He drummed his fingers against his leg once before getting up and reaching for his jacket. “This is ridiculous. Do you think he's home?”

Lance, by some incredible coincidence, had managed to move into the apartment next to Keith and Shiro's, something he'd been elated to discover one autumn morning when they all left for class at practically the same time. If he wasn't home, then Pidge could probably track down his GPS or something.

Shiro shrugged. “It's worth a shot. I'll let the others in if they get here before you. Be careful.”

“I'm literally walking next door, Shiro.”

“And you forget the number of times you nearly slipped down the stairs at the apartment's main entrance whenever it was even a little bit icy.”

Keith pulled up his hood, hoping it hid the way his face burned up. “It wasn't that many.” He stalked across the room, Shiro's laughter trailing after him. “I'll be back. Shouldn't be more than 5 minutes.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, pointedly taking care to walk down the main steps, more for his self-assurance than anything. They weren't _that_ slippery. The winter winds bit at his face, and for the first time, Keith was grateful Lance lived so close because _it was so cold_.

He walked up the steps—carefully again—and pressed at the button next to Lance's name. Room 214. 15 seconds and no reply later, Keith was lucky that another resident chose that moment to use their own key to get inside, kind enough to hold the door open for him to step inside as well. Keith ducked his head, managing out a thanks before he jogged for the stairwell.

The second floor was tranquil, covered in old, brown carpeting that echoed Keith's every footstep. He reached Lance's door, trying not to knock too loudly and wake up the entire complex. Still no answer. But one glance at the ground was enough for Keith to notice the thin stream of light peeking out from under the door, which made it almost certain that Lance was home. The amount of times Lance had chastised both him and Shiro for leaving the lights on in an empty room whenever he came over was so high that Keith couldn't even keep track. No way Lance would commit the same crime.

“Hey, Lance.” Keith started, wincing at the loud way his voice echoed down the hall. “It's Keith. Uh, you remember the party's today, right?”

Through the door, he could've sworn he heard coughing, and Keith reached for the doorknob without a second thought. The door clicked open easily, and he took a moment to process that he could actually go inside. What idiot doesn't lock his door?

The coughing had died down by the time Keith stepped inside and closed the door, only to be replaced with a low groan. Well, Lance being down with the cold explained his absence. He could've at least messaged the group, though.

Keith stepped down the narrow hallway to Lance's room, whose door was ajar. Yet when he peeked inside, the room was empty, save for the messy bed. He glanced at the small jar of pills on the bedside drawer just as he heard another bout of coughing, wet and loud. Keith jumped at the noise, whipping around and tracking it down to the small kitchen. And that was where he found Lance, shivering and curled up on the ground. A dangerous mess of shattered glass covered the floor around him, and Keith just barely stopped himself from stepping inside the kitchen and onto a large shard. The bigger problem was the blood he saw on the ground.

“Shit, Lance. Don't move.” Keith breathed out, eyes wide. He scanned the kitchen for anything he could use to clean the glass up, only to come up empty. “I'll be right back. Hold on.” He ran for Lance's room, glad he didn't have to dig around too much to spot a small dustpan and sweeper. He worked fast to clean up while he tried to talk to Lance, who was barely coherent.

When most of the danger was gone, Keith set the dustpan aside and moved to get Lance off the ground and sitting against the cabinets. Keith could finally pinpoint the injury: a small but noticeable gash on his left hand, blood still slowly weeping out of the wound.

Keith leaned up and grabbed at a few sheets of paper towels before pressing it against the wound. “Lance, do you have a first aid box anywhere? Bathroom?”

Lance's gaze finally landed on Keith, eyes widening as if he just realized Keith was there. He nodded weakly.

“Okay.” Keith took Lance's other hand and used it to replace where his hand had been on top of the paper towels. “Try to keep some pressure on it to stop the bleeding. I'll be right back.”

Finding the kit was easy, the box sitting neatly on a shelf in the bathroom cabinet. He was glad Lance was pretty organized. By the time he got back, Lance was dangerously slumped over, trembling like he was sitting in the cold with no jacket on and not on his kitchen floor.

Keith ducked back towards the ground, hands on Lance's shoulders to guide him back upright. Lance groaned at the movement, eyes meeting his again. This time, a ghost of a smile touched his face. “Keith. Sup.”

Lance's voice was horribly scratchy and rough, but Keith ignored it. “Hi. Give me your hand.”

A slightly bigger smile. “You gonna propose or somethin'?”

If he weren't so worried, Keith might have rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Lance offered his hand anyways, wincing as Keith cleaned out the wound and wrapped it with bandages. One problem down. He lifted a hand against Lance's forehead, surprised at the sudden heat that greeted him.

“That's some fever you got there. Is it the flu?” Keith asked, a frown touching his face.

Lance sighed, his head falling lightly against the cabinets. “Nah, it's strep. Sucks.”

Keith's eyes widened. Strep throat? What the hell, that was so much worse. Wasn't that contagious, too? Great. He thought back to the bottle of pills he spotted in Lance's room.

“You went to a doctor already?”

Lance nodded again before he jerked his head to the side, coughing violently into his elbow. It wracked his entire body, and Keith had to keep him from falling over again. “Earlier today. Wasn't this bad yesterday...”

“Alright, alright, no more talking. You sound like shit and your throat needs to rest.” Keith blew out a breath, running a hand across his face. “Let's get you to bed first.” He thought for a moment longer, and his shoulders slumped with resignation. “You probably can't walk, so I'll carry you.”

Lance's eyes flickered over to him again, playful. “Aw, really?”

Keith ignored him, shifting an arm underneath Lance's legs and another across his back. “I told you not to talk. I'll drop you if you do.”

Lance grinned lazily, but he obliged. Lance's constant trembling and the heat emanating from his skin had Keith's annoyance drifting away pretty quickly, though. He was surprised Lance could still joke around in this state.

After tucking him in bed and having him take another antibiotic—apparently Lance had been trying to get a cup of water to take the medicine—Keith finally stepped aside and fished out his phone. He already had 2 missed calls and 5 new messages from Shiro, each more panicked than the last. He glanced back at Lance, who was—wow—already asleep, and stepped into the hallway before dialing Shiro's number.

Shiro picked up after the first ring. “Keith?! It's been almost 20 minutes, what happened?”

“Lance is sick. Strep throat.”

Shiro sucked in a breath. “Oh man. Did he see a doctor already?”

Keith leaned against the wall, adjusting his grip on the phone. “Yeah. He just took medicine and fell asleep. Don't know what you want to do about the party, though.”

“Hold on.” There was muffled silence as Shiro shifted the phone away from his mouth, speaking to someone in the background. Keith easily picked out the responding voices as both Hunk and Pidge, which was no surprise. More rustling before Shiro's voice rang through the phone again, loud and clear. “They're fine with postponing. Lance had been the main planner for this party, doesn't really make sense to celebrate without him.”

Keith blew out a breath, somewhat relieved. “Alright. I'll just wrap up a few things here and head back.”

Once he hung up, Keith went back towards the bathroom, grabbing a small washcloth and wetting it under cold water. He figured he should do something about the broken glass, too. Maybe he could toss it on the way back.

He tried to be careful when placing the washcloth on Lance's forehead, but his eyes still fluttered open at the contact. Any trace of his earlier amusement was gone, replaced with just bare exhaustion. It was kind of weird seeing Lance like that, and not a good weird. Keith didn't like it.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. It's for the fever.” Keith said, straightening back up. Lance watched him wearily, but at least he wasn't talking like Keith had ordered. Seeing Lance so quiet was weird, too. Also not a good weird. “I'm gonna go back to my apartment to fill the others in on what happened, but I'll stop in a few hours when you gotta take the medicine again.”

Lance looked panicked at the prospect of Keith leaving, but relaxed a bit when he mentioned he was coming back again. He nodded, and Keith crossed his arms. Oh right, he almost forgot.

“And do you always not lock your door? It was unlocked when I got here. You know how dangerous that is?” Lance pointedly looked away, almost sheepish. “I'm locking it on the way out, so is there a key I can borrow to get in when I come back? I'll return it afterwards.” Lance glanced back at him, a silent question. Keith almost grinned at it. “Fine, you can talk. In as few words as possible.”

“Desk. Top right drawer.” Lance croaked out, grimacing at the way the words scraped out of his throat.

Keith fished out the key, tucking it into his pocket before he lightly patted the top of Lance's blanket. “Get better soon. We can't start the party until you're with us.”

Lance smiled at that, tired but genuine. He nodded, eyes already growing heavy. Keith made sure he actually fell asleep before quietly stepping back outside and towards the kitchen. He dumped the glass into a garbage bag and cleaned up the dried blood before washing the hell out of his hands and face. Then again, he'd carried Lance back to his room, so he couldn't be certain he hadn't already caught it. And on top of that, he was going back to Lance's apartment later. He'd probably need to stop by the doctor and get his own antibiotics tomorrow.

He disposed of the bag in the lobby before leaving the apartment, the cold air biting at his face like an old friend. He grumbled, so busy pulling his hood up that his foot caught on a patch of ice on the final step and sent him crashing on his butt. Nope. Shiro was never hearing about this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i don't reply to comments often, i do read them (and appreciate them so much) whenever i log on! thank you to everyone who reads :')
> 
> i'll probably be more responsive on [tumblr](https://yuki-setsu.tumblr.com/), so feel free to visit me there ^^


End file.
